


Paso Doble

by nishiki



Series: Dancing in the dark [3]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amputation, Dealing With Loss, Dealing With Trauma, Fish Mooney as a motherly figure, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Control, Loss of Limbs, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Nygmobblepot, Oswald looses his leg and comes back to Gotham, Oswald's relationships to other people, POV Oswald Cobblepot, Past Relationship(s), Reminiscing, at first, gobblepot, reminiscing about relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 19:43:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15126557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishiki/pseuds/nishiki
Summary: Oswald returns to Gotham after the torture Fish Mooney had administered to him. He returns with a heart full of grief and a thirst for revenge. And as he comes back to Gotham and sees first hand what happened after he escaped town, he finds himself reminiscing about his relationships in the past and how it all came to this.





	1. Chapter 1

He remembered dancing. He remembered dancing with his mother on Christmas Eve. When he thought back on his life, his entire life from start to where he was now, even his relationships with other people, seemed to have been a dance.

His mother and he, their relationship, their love, had been like a Jive, a relationship formed entirely by a primal sense of trust, wholesome and without question. No matter what, no matter where, he had always been able to rely on his mother.

He had been as sure of his mother's love as he had been sure to see the sun or the moon in the sky every day and every night above Gotham. She had always been there for him, no questions asked and he had always returned to her, as he did now on this rainy afternoon on the small graveyard just a little outside of the block they had lived in. The graveyard was squeezed in between the church he and his mother had gone to and some old abandoned house that would all too soon crumple in on itself if it wouldn't get demolished first.

His mother had always wanted to be buried outside of town in a more open, more peaceful environment, maybe underneath an old willow tree that would lend her a bit of shadow during hot days. He hadn't been there for her funeral. Her headstone was simple, recycled granite without question, the epitaph just her name and dates. There was no addition in form of ‘beloved Mother’ written on the stone, no engraving of a lily. Nothing.

It was a poor man’s grave, paid for by the state, to be demolished as soon as the space would be needed for someone else.

Surely, her funeral had been a lonely one. Only her, the priest and some witness of the state as it was the custom. He did not know much about how his mother had died. There had been an obituary in the Gotham Gazette one month before he had managed to get back to Gotham. He had been lucky enough that one of the nurses that cared for him during his recovery, had bought them, otherwise, he would have never known.

A stroke, that was what the obituary had claimed but he knew better. His mother had died of a broken heart, there was no way around it, no way to sugarcoat the harsh truth. She had died because he had failed to come back to her because she had believed him to be dead and thrown in some shallow grave in the woods or thrown into the Gotham River never to surface again.

As he stood at her graveside now in the pouring rain, he could not help but to envision the scene that had played out a month ago as his mother had died. And as he did, he realized that there were still so many unanswered questions to it. So much he didn't know. Had his mother died at home? Had she been found right away or only after a few days had already passed and the smell had attracted their neighbor’s attention?

Neither his mother nor he had many friends. His mother only had a few women she knew through church or the local markets where she had liked to gossip and brag about her son. But friends? No. No one who would be worried enough to come looking, with the exception of Father Anthony, perhaps. It was him who had paid for her obituary, after all. It had only taken him one small phone call to find that out.

Oswald, considering his line of work, had never been a fan of the Catholic church that was usually painting people like him as sinners but he had always held Father Anthony in fond memory. He had been the one comforting him more often than not while growing up when the other children would have picked on him or when he had sat in church all alone on some rainy afternoon because his mother had needed to work and didn't want him to be alone in the apartment like most f the other children in their neighborhood.

He remembered him being at his school regularly for counseling, he remembered how Father Anthony had found him crying in the school chapel at age fourteen and how he had just sat with him for a while, let him cry until there had been no more tears left and then listened to him quietly as he had told him about his feelings for another boy.

He had been certain that Father Anthony would turn away in disgust, that he would tell his mother and ban him from church. But there had been no judgment, just comfort. He had never talked to his mother about it and neither had Father Anthony. It had been so much easier to have her fear that he might run off with some painted lady instead of opening up to her about his true nature. It had been easier to look for sexual pleasure in the darkest parts of the city where his mother would never suspect her sweet boy to be. It had been easier to put on a mask for her, to dress immaculately every morning to have breakfast with her as if he had not sucked off some nameless dude in a dirty bathroom stall the night before.

It had been easier to play a role and never show her his true self. To his mother, he had always been the perfect boy, who would never argue with her in earnest and always do as he was told and at night he would roam the streets of Gotham for work or for fun and that side of him she could never know about.

His mother would have been scandalized would she have known how her perfect son would follow men into dirty bathroom stalls or unfamiliar apartments. Even Fish - Hell, even Butch Gilzean - had once or twice warned him about that and what danger could be involved in this kind of behavior. He had never been afraid, though.

Had his mother perhaps thought that he had run off with a girl as he hadn't returned to her? Had she thought that her worst nightmare had finally come true? He could not even fathom the pain she had been in during her last days.

»I am sorry Mother.« He heard himself whisper and could hardly recognize his own voice. It sounded weak and thin, trembling and anxious. It was cold around him but the shivers that were running down his spine did not come from the cold and unfriendly weather. Not even the fever or the pain in his leg could compete with the pure agony he was in at his mother's graveside. »I am so sorry. I should have been there.« He sobbed quietly, glad for the rain that could mask his tears. Not that he would usually care. »It was all my fault, wasn’t it, Mother? I wanted too much. I was like Icarus and I flew too high, came too close to the sun. None of this should have happened.« The strangled sob that escaped his throat made it impossible to talk before he managed to regain composure. »I don't know if I'm going to make it without you. What should I do, Mother? What can I do?«

There was no answer, only the sound of rain drumming on the ground around him and the field of grey stones staring back at him. As he had arrived, he had only found a bouquet of old lilies on her grave that had been there for a few days at least. Someone had been here and brought his mother her favorite flowers. This didn't make anything better at all. He felt empty as he finally left the graveyard once more with the intent never to return. He had nothing left now. The mob doctor had taken all his money only to let him stay until his leg had healed and for that god-awful prosthesis.

It was uncomfortable and too long. Every single one of his steps was uncertain and wobbly. He had no control over his own body any longer. Not to mention the constant level of pain he was in. Maybe he should have died that day at the pier. Maybe death would have been better.

Better than the trauma and the agony he had gone through. He had done all this only to be able to return to his mother, in the end.

Those days after James had spared his life would forever haunt his nightmares. He was sure of that. Maybe he should be grateful but now, wandering the narrow streets of Gotham’s poorest district, he could not bring himself to feel anything but anger and the thirst for revenge.

He knew that coming back to Gotham had been a risky move. He would be dead the moment one of Fish Mooney’s lackeys would spot him in the streets. But how could he have stayed away from this city? He loved Gotham with all his heart as if the city was a real person.

His relationship to Gotham was like a Rumba. It was a constant up and down, flowing and always in motion like a river, like the Gotham river that was flowing through the town. It was a dance in which he never lost contact with the city. They were always intertwined no matter how fast their dance became until the lines of where he ended and the city began grew blurry.

The Narrows was a cold, hard and unforgiving place but to him, it was safety, at least for a moment. He had nothing that anyone could desire to steal from him and that showed painfully clear. He had no money left, nothing of value at his person. The only thing he had was his own body and even that no one would want in his current state would he try and offer it to anyone.

The people around him were a gruff bunch, gathering under a bridge around a fire that was burning inside a trash can. No one ever asked who he was or where he came from. He had always been an outcast and that had never been clearer to him than in those first few days back in Gotham.

※※※※※※※

He was back in his mother’s apartment, a small frail boy with raven black hair and sickly white skin. He was hiding in his bedroom, a narrow dimly lit room in a narrow street in the heart of Gotham. It was the kind of street where the residents would stretch washing lines across the road below between the houses. It was the kind of street where the resident children would play down on the cobblestone road no matter the weather together as one big family. It was the kind of street where everyone knew each other and could easily tell if some things were not right.

Right around the corner, only half a block away from his home, was the old gothic church that he and his mother frequented every Sunday dressed in their best clothes and right next to it was an old graveyard. It was the kind of graveyard the older kids would dare each other to spend a night in because the place was just so frightening even during daylight. It was no place where Oswald would want to rest someday in the, hopefully, very far future.

He looked up from where he sat nestled in between his bedside table and his chest of drawers. His mother and he did not have much and thus his room was not as big as those of other children, perhaps, but to him, it was enough. In the dim light of his room, he saw how the light of the sun outside slowly wandered across the room. Soon his mother would return from work and she would be furious when she would see him. There was still the hanger on his door where his mother had hung Oswald’s new black communion suit. She had made it perfectly clear to him not to make it dirty before Sunday because she would not have time to wash and iron it.

The temptation to wear his new expensive suit to show it off to the other children had been too strong. And now what?

His mother would be so disappointed in him.

»Oswald!« He heard his mother's voice before he heard the door fall shut behind her, followed shortly by the jingle of her keys being placed neatly in a small bowl that he had made for her for mother's day last year beside the door on a side table. »Oswald! Darling, where are you?« She sounded so joyful.

Oswald was nine years old by now and it was only since he had turned nine that his mother had decided she could trust him to be alone after school. To him, as she had given him the spare key to their apartment, it had almost been like being knighted by her. As she had given him the key to their home it had been more than just a key. It was a symbol of her trust in him. It meant she trusted him enough to come and go as he pleased while she was away without doing something stupid or getting into trouble. And now what?

»Oswald?«

He wouldn't dare to move or say anything as he listened to his mother and how she walked through the apartment, her heels gently click-clacking on the wooden floorboards. It took his mother only a minute to find him as she walked up to his door and opened it. There were not many hiding spots anyway and his door always ajar. First, she leaned against the doorframe as she spotted him squeezed in the tight space between the chest of drawers and the bedside table on the ground with a fond smile, but then she took in the state he was in and her smile dropped.

»Oswald … What happened?«

»I’m sorry, Mom!« He hiccuped as he was unable to hold back the flow of fresh tears down his face immediately as his mother directed her attention towards him. »I am so sorry! I didn't mean to ruin the suit!«

His mother had never hit him and she rarely screamed at him but her disappointment was worse than both of these scenarios. He would have taken her beating him with a belt over her disappointed look as she slowly walked closer to him to get a better glimpse of the destruction. He had not expected to get scooped up into her arms, however.

»I just wanted to show the other children my new suit!« He exclaimed heartbroken as he clung to her as for dear life, certain that he would now lose all his newly acquired privileges again. »And they pushed me into the mud and hit me.«

His left sleeve had been torn from the socket and the fabric was all but ruined from mud and dirt. It had certainly not been the first time. He should have known better. The other children always pushed him around and yet he always returned to them to show off some new toy or new clothing as if he still hoped to gain their approval like this. It was fruitless, of course.

»They made fun of me and insulted me…«

»I told you to go and look for an adult when those mean bullies come after you again, Darling.« She whispered softly into his ear, finally breaking her silence.

»I'm so sorry, Mommy.«

»Let's get you cleaned up, Darling. And then we will have a look at your suit, alright?«

»No, it's destroyed, Mommy! It's completely destroyed! And now everything is ruined! And I can't go to the communion on Sunday and I will never go to Heaven like Dad because I was bad!« The flood of words escaped him without much thought but it was what he was afraid of deep down in his heart of hearts. He knew how important it was to be good and go to church every Sunday. He knew how important the holy communion was. Now he would never be a part of the congregation.

His mother just carried on with him on her arms as she walked through the flat and seemed to entirely ignore his meltdown. »Don't say such things. You are my little angel.«

»You don't understand, Mommy!« He exclaimed with a choked sob as his mother gently lowered him back to the floor after they reached the bathroom. In there and under the bright neon light she was able to take in more of his appearance. The dirt in his hair and on his face, the tears in the suit and the grime all over the front and his freshly polished shoes, all ready for the big day on Sunday. She paused for a second before turning to the bathtub and filling it with water.

»When I was your age« She began quietly and put in the plug to stop the water from being drained before she returned to him and crouched down in front of him on the tiles. He shortly thought about her back and how much she usually had to suffer from backaches due to her straining work. »I couldn't wait for my communion either. My mother, your grandmother, had sewn my communion dress for me. It was beautiful. It was made out of her own wedding dress, you know?«

Oswald sniffled a little as his mother unbuttoned his suit jacket and shoved it from his shoulders. It pooled on the tiles as if it meant nothing to either one of them. His shirt and undershirt were soon to follow.

»And I was so proud of that dress … I wanted to show it off to the other girls. Do you know what happened?«

He shook his head and swallowed a new onslaught of tears as his mother brushed her right index finger down his nose with a chuckle. »We played and I slipped and fell into a puddle of mud.«

These words actually coaxed a small surprised laugh from Oswald.

»What did grandma do?« He quietly asked.

»Your grandmother was furious.« She laughed as she helped him out of his shoes, socks, pants, and briefs with skilled ease. »But then she drew me a bath and cleaned my dress. It was only a dress, after all. It wasn't worth making a big deal of. They, my parents, had lost so much during the war … A single dress was of little importance, my little Bird.«

Oswald had always felt most content with his mother by his side. Despite the anger and disappointment that she was probably experiencing at this moment, still, she knelt beside the tub and washed his hair with gentle fingers. She didn't show her anger and disappointment, only hummed that little tune he loved so much.

It was not much later that he found himself wrapped in a blanket on the comfortable old sofa in the living room. His mother was sitting beside him and was skillfully repairing his suit while he watched her work, trying to learn from her skilled fingers in the process. After a while, her soothing hum became impossible to resist as he leaned against her frame. She smiled at him but quickly returned to stitching the suit back together.

»Don't listen to the other children, Oswald.« She finally said. »You are handsome, my pretty Bird. And one day you will be a great man. Those boys that picked on you today are just envious of you, Oswald.«

He knew that she was right and that his mother's words were true because they always were. His mother was always right. It still hurt that he never managed to gain those boys’ approval. All he wanted was to be a part of this group, all he wanted was a friend. »I thought they were my friends. Butch said he was my friend.«

Butch was older and had loads of older and younger siblings. He was intimidating but everyone in the neighborhood liked him. All Oswald wanted was to be his friend too. Maybe one day they would be friends.

»I know, little Bird. But they are all liars. Especially that Gilzean boy. He will follow in his father's footsteps and land himself in jail soon anyway. Always remember you can trust no one. No one but your mother.« The kiss she placed on top of his head was reassuring and prompted him to close his eyes. »I am always here for you, my little cobblepot.«

 

**-End of Chapter 1-**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small chapter about what happened after Jim threw Oswald in the river. I didn't want to go into too much detail though I thought about describing it more brutally

He had always known that he was playing a dangerous game ever since he had decided to become part of the organized crime that was running Gotham and to work for Fish Mooney of all people. He had known that everything might be over in an instant for him and yet, it was his thirst for power, for recognition, that had ultimately driven him to snitch on Fish. This was not the entire reason, of course, but it was the reason he wanted to put his focus on - for now. Maybe because admitting that a man had led to his downfall, was a little too embarrassing even for him.

There had been a time when he had loved Fish almost like a mother - like a different kind of mother than he actually had. She had taken him in when he had needed it the most and built him up from scratch. She had given him purpose and built up his self-esteem. She had taught him what he needed to know to become himself. Their relationship had been like a Chachacha. It had been fast and fun, theatrical and exciting and a constant tug and pull, a constant testing of how far he could go and what line not to cross. And, coincidentally, it had been Fish’s favorite dance too.

The moment Butch had first brought him in and introduced him to his boss, he and Fish had a connection and yet, Oswald had decided to sever this relationship and thus his ties to Fish. For a man, no less - and for his own greed. Sure, he had had his qualms with Fish and with the way she had treated him more like a funny little toy or a dog she could show off, but this alone would have never been enough to snitch on her.

There had been a moment, after Jim had made it pretty clear to him that he did not want him anymore, when he had thought about going to Fish and confessing the mess he had made, to maybe even beg for her forgiveness and cry over his broken heart. Fish might sometime appear stone-cold and heartless, but Oswald knew better. He knew that she had had a soft spot for him and maybe he could have warmed her towards him again. She might have even forgiven him, might have seen the pain that all of this had caused him after he had fallen in love head over heels for James only to be rejected so brutally then. He could have played it to his advantage. He could have acted as if James had targeted him to get information out of him and that he then had pushed Oswald away after he had gotten what he wanted. He would have just needed to push the right buttons.

Then again, everything might as well have ended the very same way.

Maybe he had been destined to lose his life at that pier and become one with Gotham for good as he had sunken deep into the cold Gotham river. However, James Gordon had not put a bullet into his head, he had not died and he had not become a part of Gotham. Instead, he had been forced to live on. He had been forced to survive because even if he had wanted to die, his own survival instinct would not have allowed it.

Maybe it was this belief that he was meant for greatness that his mother had instilled in him which had forced his body into action after he had fallen into the icy waters. It was this instinct that had caused him to kill an innocent fisherman just for his tuna sandwich despite the fact that the man might as well have given it to him had he just asked him. It was this instinct that had allowed him to walk out of town with his destroyed leg for miles and miles until he had found these teenagers - or rather until they had found him.

Had they not mocked him … Who knew if he would have killed them or not. He had killed the first with a broken beer bottle just for making fun of him and his walk and the other a week later, after his mother had paid him a hefty ransom. He could have let him go but, of course, the boy had seen his face and Oswald, at this point, had been willing to do anything to survive.

※※※※※※※

A week had gone by since he had slit the throat of that teenager. Thomas or … Theodore … Something with T, anyway. He remembered his panic and his cries for help as he had realized what fate would befall him despite the fact that his mother had paid the ransom of fifty thousand dollars. Well, the boy had seen his face, after all. He surely had known that Oswald had to dispose of him. He had to have known. Luckily for him, the trailer park was almost deserted at this time of the year. Outside the world was covered with a thick blanket of snow and the cold was creeping in through the cracks in the walls and settling in his aching bones as he turned around on the cot.

His stomach was rumbling in protest at the lack of food. He had money to take a stroll down the street to the next grocery store or gas station. Sure. He had passed a small gas station on his way up the road a week ago. However, his body protested in agony at the thought of walking. He missed his mother's cooking. He missed waking up to the smell of breakfast in his narrow room. He missed the clutter of his bedroom, missed the serenity of their small apartment.

He even missed Jim.

He missed sneaking back into the apartment in the wee hours of the morning so that his mother would not get suspicious. Oswald couldn't imagine what she was going through right now. She was certainly sick from worrying over her lost boy. He had no phone. He had dumped the prepaid phone that he had stolen to make the calls to the boy’s mother in a nearby river - just like the boy himself too. Even if he had a phone now … It wouldn't be wise to call her.

To the world, he needed to be dead, at least for a little while longer now. Only until he would have regained his strength, only until his leg would have healed properly. Only a little while longer...

Nine days in, Oswald was shaken awake by the fever that had settled into his bones. The world around him was spinning out of control as he forced open his eyes. He was burning up from the inside, his head was pounding and he could almost hear the infection rushing through his bloodstream resulting in a nasty ringing sound in his ears as he lay in his cot and tried to make sense of the world around him.

He had to get up. he had to find a doctor.

Until now, he had taken care of his broken ankle and shattered knee on his own but clearly, he needed help, if it wasn't already too late for that. Oswald gathered all his remaining strength to pull himself into an upright position but as soon as he was vertical, his stomach lurched and he threw up all over the dirty floor of the rented trailer. There wasn't much in his stomach, to begin with, and so he spit out only stomach acid anyway. Still, his throat felt as if it had been lined with sandpaper and for a second he felt as if he would fall forward and into his own mess immediately. He caught himself from falling at the very last second but even that, as he grabbed the headboard of the cot for support, sent a flash on pain through his entire body, making him scream out in agony. His vision went black for a moment from the white-hot searing pain that was rendering him useless.

It took him minutes, maybe hours to come back to his senses and regain some form of control. He used it to slowly and very carefully roll up the right leg of his pants that he had stolen from the dead boy, just like everything else he was wearing. His own suit was ruined. It seemed to take even longer to roll up his leg inch by agonizing inch as if the fabric had melted into his skin.

The low whine escaping his throat did not even sound like him as he finally succeeded in rolling the leg up above his swollen knee. It was more than twice as big as the left one by this point and the same held true for the rest of his lower right leg. His ankle was of an ugly black and purple color that started to spread all over his right foot as well and his knee … Oh, his knee … It was one big black bruise underneath the makeshift bandages he had applied a week ago. His right foot seemed frozen in the position it had taken over a week ago, turned slightly outside.

He had tried to brace both knee and ankle in the beginning with the thickest sticks and bandages he had found outside but in the end, all it had done was causing him more pain and discomfort. He needed help.

The choked sob that escaped him was that of a panicked little boy that didn't know what to do anymore and desperately needed his mother's help.

It took him two more days until he finally managed to leave the trailer, supported only by an old broken umbrella that he had found inside the trailer. One upside to having worked for Fish Mooney was that he was informed quite well about not only Falcone’s businesses all over Gotham and the surrounding area but Maroni’s as well. This was simply part of the business and thus he knew that one of the mob doctors in Maroni’s employment had his practice not too far away.

Getting there, however, proved to be a lot more difficult. Though he had a car and was driving down there too, he was highly aware of the risk involved in his endeavor as he could hardly keep his eyes open at that point.

By some miracle, he made it to the mob doctor. It was his weakened state and the infection that had settled into the bone, what made him just nod his head as the doctor had told him that he needed to cut off his leg. It had been either his leg or his life and the choice had been quite simple when putting it like that.

Only as he had found himself tied to a bed with leather straps and seen the bone saw in the doctor's hands, he had begun to regret his decision. There had been no anesthesia, only a gag shoved into his mouth to bite down on and prevent him from biting off his own tongue.

He had passed out quickly, thankfully.

After this, his life had been agony. Weeks and weeks of pure and utter pain so primal that he cried for his mother more than once as he had to suffer through it, confined only to some dirty worn down bed in some dingy moist back room of the mob doctor’s private practice.

Of course, the practice was hidden beneath some random butcher shop which too was owned by the mob. There was no need to embark on the danger that entailed walking into a mob-owned business like this in his current position. And not only was he at the risk of being discovered by his enemies but by police as well. Every time he had been urged to be silent because of some police officer that was sneaking around in the butcher shop upstairs he had felt his heart stop in fear.

The only reassurance he had had was that this business belonged to Salvatore Maroni and that he, Oswald Cobblepot, was a complete nobody to Maroni. He probably did not even know that he existed in the first place. Usually, acknowledging this fact was nothing he would like to do but in this case, it was actually beneficial to him. Coming up with a new name had not been too difficult either. For Dr. Turner, he was Dimitri, the weird young man from Hungary. If he could do anything, it was faking a Hungarian accent. He had lived with his mother, after all. Even if his accent would not have been believable, neither Dr. Turner nor the two nurses in his employment would have really cared anyway.

He was only one more lost soul coming to Dr. Turner after some gig had gone wrong.

All those people really cared for was money and to not get in trouble with the opposing mob family of Falcone to which Oswald had belonged previously. Cash had been exchanged in advance for the operation but for every additional day he stayed, more money would flow from his pockets into Dr. Turner’s until there would be nothing left and he would be thrown out and back into the streets.

The Hippocratic Oath meant not too much to a man who was operating in the basement of a mob-owned butcher shop for money. Dr. Turner could, in the end, not care less if his patient would die out there in the real world or not. He was not paid enough to care.

It was one of the nurses, a shy young girl named Emily, who usually read the Gotham Gazette every morning, despite the fact that they were quite a few miles removed from the big city with all her enticing lights. Every morning when he woke up in his bed, he found her sitting at a small table in the corner with a cup of coffee and the newspaper in her hands. Sometimes, when he would not be too drugged to even remember his own name, she gave the newspaper to him after finishing it but on especially bad days, she would read it to him. This was how he learned about his mother’s death.

In the beginning, Emily was surprised and confused as Oswald had first asked her to read the obituaries to him as well but she still did it. He didn't know what he had hoped to get out of this. Maybe a part of him had been anxious to read about Jim's premature death, although he would never admit to that. Maybe a part of him had even been afraid to read his mother's name and every day he would not read a name he recognized, he felt a wave of relief wash over him.

That was until Emily read his mother's name to him, in the same uninterested tone as every other name before. He didn't blame her, after all, his mother's name meant nothing to her, even though on the inside he was ripping her head clean off. She did not realize that she turned his whole world upside down the moment she said his mother's name.

After this, there was nothing that could possibly hold him back even a second longer and would it not have been for the bad state he had been in, nothing could have possibly kept him away from Gotham for even a day longer. In the end, a whole additional month had passed of him being chained to a bed - sometimes literally. Only as his money had run out after he had bought that prosthesis from Dr. Turner with what he had left, was he finally allowed to leave.

He left the practice for Gotham without a plan of what he wanted to do except visiting his mother's grave.

Gotham was some harsh and unforgiving place, maybe even more so than before the day he almost died at that pier. It was almost as if, with his mother's death, Gotham had been drained of its light. This was certainly true for Oswald's life. Everything seemed bleaker now. The world had lost its colors. He had hoped it to be a mistake, that his mother was still alive, but as he found himself at his mother's grave, the harsh reality settled in all too clearly.

She had been the light of his life. She had been his entire world, his everything. Maybe their relationship had been borderline unhealthy, yes, but he had loved her nevertheless without condition and more than anything else.

Maybe even more than Jim.

※※※※※※※

He had always stayed away from the Narrows. His mother had warned him of the place ever since he had been little and yet, here he was. A part of this god awful place. The Narrows were dirty and poor, a place for the truly depraved and pitiful. There was no hope at a place like this. Children were playing in the dirt up until late into the nights because they did not have homes and if they did … Well, they did not seem all too eager to get back there.

He had not grown up in the most privileged neighborhood. He had been surrounded by poor people and people living off of welfare, by people who had worked their entire lives until their backs couldn't take it anymore. He had been raised in a neighborhood that had been run by a gang and that gang, the Gilzeans, had cared more for the well-being of their neighbors than the cops. Yet his neighborhood was worlds apart from the Narrows.

A newspaper page was crinkling in the fire within the old barrel underneath the bridge and for throwing it in, he had earned himself some nasty stares of the other homeless people that had gathered around the barrel in search for warmth. Of course, a newspaper was worth its weight in gold out here. It was his blanket if he failed to find a better suited one. Yet, the sight of the newspaper burning to ashes filled him with at least a tiny bit of joy for just a moment.

It was already late, the sun had already sunken and been swallowed by the Gotham river and Oswald only reluctantly left the side of the barrel after a while, missing the warmth of the fire immediately as he turned away. Still, he knew he had to find a place to sleep for the night. Roaming the narrows at night was always dangerous. Even though he had nothing but the clothes on his back, sometimes this was enough for those most desperate to attack another person and kill them. April nights could get pretty cold still and as he walked away from the bridge where the other homeless people had gathered, he felt the icy winds settle into his bones again.

He was limping blindly through the dirty streets of the Narrows despite the fever he could feel taking hold of his body once more. He could have stayed with the other unfortunates under that bridge, of course, but Oswald did not trust those. They would slit his throat the moment he would fall asleep. And if the hunger would grow strong enough … They might eat him too. He needed food and shelter and he needed to take that damn prosthesis off.

It was his instinct that made him pause just in time as in front of him the door to one of the many dingy bars opened and a bulky man left the establishment. »Next time, Miss Mooney wants her money without delay or I cut off your other hand too!« The man called over his shoulder before the door swung shut behind him. Oswald was frozen in place, however, just as Butch Gilzean turned to look at the homeless guy who was staring at him, Oswald quickly turned around and limped back into the shadows of the next alley. He didn't stop again.

He didn't stop before he had left the Narrows. He didn't stop until he had somehow ended up in the nice part of town. He didn't stop until he found himself at the corner of some ridiculously expensive hotel in the middle of the night. Light was streaming out of the prosperous hotel and onto the street outside like a beacon of hope or a lighthouse on a stormy night. Yet, this place did not offer shelter for someone like him. Not anymore.

There had been a time when he would have been welcomed with open arms in such a luxurious place but this seemed now a lifetime ago. So much had happened in only four months. There was a person walking out of the hotel just as he stood at the corner of the street and even from afar, right in this moment, he could tell who the person was. There was a moment when he caught the person in front of the hotel staring at him and he could not bring himself to look away. He was frozen in place staring back at James Gordon and just as he saw movement in the other man’s frame, a woman emerged from the hotel lobby as well. James looked away from him for just this moment but it sufficed for him to vanish back into the shadows.

 

**-End of Chapter 2-**


	3. Chapter 3

He had known from the very start that he and James Gordon would never work out. Even before he had learned that Jim was a cop, he had known that they were too different to be together in the long run. James Gordon was like the sun, warm and good with his golden glow. His presence alone had filled him with warmth and a boost to his confidence. He knew that he was not the most handsome man out there, so having a man like James Gordon not only noticing him, to begin with but even desiring him, was bound to boost one’s self-esteem.

However, looking back on how all of this had started, it had been bound to end ugly.

If he had to describe his relationship with James Worthington Gordon, he would say that it was like dancing a Tango. It was passionate and fiery and a constant push and pull for dominance right from the start. Coincidentally, it was the very dance he had been dancing with Fish Mooney on the night he had first met James.

A part of him, even in his desolate state was certain, that he would never forget the night he had met James Gordon and not just because of the man himself but mostly because of everything that had followed after that night and to what it led inevitably.

Meeting James Gordon had been the beginning of the end for him. As he had first met James’ deep blue eyes, he had unknowingly drawn a line under his life up until that point. As he had first kissed James Gordon, he had not only ended his own life but his mother's life as well. He had been doomed right from the start for no matter how much he had tried to appear unaffected and in control of their relationship and it's nature, Oswald had given up control the moment James had first addressed him outside of Fish Mooney's club underneath the flickering light of a street lamp.

It was no secret that his heart was his greatest weakness. It had always been like this. He was quick to fall for a gorgeous man like James. First, he had not been willing to admit how he felt towards Jim but after a short while, it had been too clear to further ignore it.

Thinking about it now, in his delirious state of mind as he was fighting his way through Gotham, he could admit that he had been excited by the thrill of his relationship with Jim. He had always liked dominant men who took the reins from him from time to time. Sure, he was a man who craved dominance and control too but he had loved it how Jim had pressed him against that dirty wall, pulled down his pants and taken him right then and there without taking no for an answer - not that Oswald would have fought him anyway. He had loved the fever with which Jim had fucked him as if his life or his sanity would depend on it, as if they were the only two people left on this earth.

Even lying in the dirty trailer and in pain, he had jerked off to that memory once or twice. It was the feeling of being desired so deeply that had hit him like a truck and, in effect, made him fall in love with Jim right away.

He had never felt like this before. He had never experienced feeling so wanted - and not in the way his mother had shown him how much she had wanted him in her life. He had been nothing, no one, to his previous sexual partners and most of them had not even known his name. Those experiences had not always been pleasurable either.

He had experienced it a few times that some guy had beaten him bloody during the intercourse once or twice just because they had not wanted to use condoms and Oswald would have started struggling then. One time the guy he had slept with had just snapped because he was married and struggling with his own sexuality. All his life, he had been a punching bag for those around him. He knew what the brutal reality looked like and was not naive about it either. He had experienced it and he knew how it felt to be all alone and not able to talk to anyone about it because this society was still very much blind and deaf to male sexual assault.

Not to mention that he could have never talked to his mother about that.

There was only one motherly figure he had been able to talk to about that kind of thing and on her he had snitched for a man and his own vain arrogance. Maybe he had deserved what Fish had done to him. Maybe, had their places been swapped, he had acted the same way. He had betrayed her, after all. He had broken her heart for a man. For a man who he had thought loved him just like Oswald loved James.

However, his thoughts had not been with her during his time with Jim. Maybe he had lost himself a little in this relationship. First, it had just been sex but it had become quite difficult to justify going to Jim's place almost every night to have dinner or watch crappy TV with it just being a fuck-relationship. To him, it had been more than this pretty early on. Maybe even from the start. He had tried to play it cool the first time he had slept with Jim. He had left in the cover of darkness and decided that this was over and done with. Just one more one-night-stand, another notch in his belt. Another guy who would forget his name as soon as he would wake up in the morning and who would pass him by in the streets without batting a lash.

In that fateful night, as he had been wandering down the streets on his way back to his mother's apartment, he had been certain that he would never see Jim again. Surely, James had been drunk and didn't know what he was doing - a handsome man like James Gordon, who apparently just moved into that apartment judging by the moving boxes all over the place, could have anyone he desired.

He had quickly realized that James was not a very tidy person. He had not even needed the second visit to his flat to realize that. The truth was, that the moment Jim had shoved him up against the wall in this alleyway, he had thought about fighting him off. He had thought, for a second, that he needed to regain control in gaining distance from the other man before he would fall too deep and before there was no coming back from this. In the end, he had given in.

Maybe this had been the beginning of his downfall. After that night, Jim had begun picking him up almost every night and before he knew it, his thoughts had always circled around the other man. He had spent hours fantasizing about him, imagining his kisses and the way his calloused hands would trail down his sensitive skin. Fish had even jokingly remarked once or twice that Oswald had certainly fallen hard for someone the way he zoned out in her company from time to time. She had not held it against him, however, only warned him to be careful to whom he gave his tender little heart. Somehow, Fish had always understood him in a way no one else had. And yes, even now as his right leg was slowly killing him still, he missed her - to some capacity.

They had had a few exciting weeks together before their inevitable downfall. He blamed himself in part for it. Jim had talked a bit about beginning his new job and yet Oswald had never asked him about what this new job was. Maybe a part of him had almost sensed something like this and that was why he had never asked. He had been afraid that the revelation would end their relationship - whatever this relationship even was.

He too had been too afraid to give a name to that thing they had. In the end, he had been glad that he had not given a name to it. It would have been even harder and more painful had he done so.

He would never forget the moment as Jim had caught him beating up one of Fish’s goons. As their eyes had met, he had known that it was over, that there was no chance of redemption because he was a criminal and Jim was a truly good guy - maybe even the only one this city had. A part of him had not wanted to taint him in any way. He had been afraid that his touch alone would corrupt him, in the end.

And yet he went to Jim and begged him to take him back. He had thrown every last bit of dignity out of the window. Preserving his own pride had not been important any longer for the first time in his life. Only Jim had been important and still he had known that Jim would never take him back after that.

Telling Jim about Fish’s involvement in the Wayne murders had been one last sorry attempt of getting him back even though he had already known that. But desperation had been a lot stronger than common sense or even his loyalty to Fish.

Yes, maybe he had deserved everything Fish had done to him.

Jim hadn't had any other chance than sending him away and yet, as he came back to Gotham he felt the hard slap of reality almost throwing him off his feet as he had gotten his hands on the newest issue of the Gotham Gazette announcing James Gordon and Barbara Kean’s engagement. Four months. It had been four months and Jim Gordon was already going to marry some young and pretty socialite, a person who couldn't be any more different from him even if she would try to.

A part of him felt like he was fleeing from the truth as he left the street the hotel was in. He didn't know if Jim had seen or recognized him and even if he had … What had he expected would happen? He had no right to be jealous. It had been a fling, it had been an affair, it had been sex and he had been stupid for falling in love with James. He had been stupid for making this something more than it truly was.

Yet, as he dove back into the darkness of Gotham City, he felt crushed. He hadn't expected to come back to this city and get back to Jim. Even if he could have gone back to Jim, even if there had been a chance … This was over and he had known that it was over. Yet, it hurt like hell. Barbara Kean was not only young and beautiful, she was a statement to Gotham and Fish Mooney. It was Jim showing that he had understood his lesson, that he would be playing by the rules from now on.

Oswald didn't even know where he was headed as he was aimlessly walking through the city. He wanted to gain distance between the hotel and himself. Maybe he wanted to get back to the Narrows but, in the end, his legs wouldn't carry him any further anymore. He was burning up from the inside as he finally sat down on the cold ground inside that alleyway between overflowing trash cans and scurrying rats.

He felt drained of all energy as he slumped down on the dirty ground. Maybe, he wondered, he should have died on that pier. Maybe Jim should have put a bullet to his brain. And yet, as his eyes fell shut, his mind wandered back to the night he had first laid eyes on James Gordon and he allowed hell to swallow him whole.

※※※※※※※

The lights of the club had always been enticing to Oswald. Fish Mooney’s confidence had always been alluring to him. As the job opening as an entertainer at her club had been brought to his attention, of course, he had begged her to audition for it. He was not even surprised that she had not given him the job, in the end. She was a cat, contradictory to her nickname, and she had already dug her claws into him years ago after she had first adopted him into her ranks. He was her puppet, her little toy to deal with as she pleased. This was the truth about all of this. He was not just one more of her goons, not even good or strong enough to be considered hired muscle like Butch or the others. He was amusement.

It had taken him a lot of time until he had finally realized that he would never be more than a puppet to this woman. He did his best not to show his disappointment as Fish told him that he would not be her new entertainer or as she asked him for a dance that same night as if she had not just crushed his dreams. He kept laughing, kept complimenting her as, in his head, he decided that one day he would stomp her into the ground and take over everything she had build in her life. He was done accepting being a puppet in her game.

It was as he danced with Fish, that he got his first glimpse of the young man who was sitting at the bar. A new face he had never seen before in this environment. He was a tall handsome man with dirty blonde hair, cropped short like one of those stereotypical soldiers in old Hollywood movies. A James Dean kind of guy in a leather jacket, a white shirt, and blue jeans. He only caught glimpses of him but whenever he did, he grew more and more aware of how the man stole glances at him too.

»Looks like you got yourself an admirer, pretty Bird.« Fish purred close to his ear as they were floating across the dancefloor. As he looked at her, he did his best to look puzzled by her statement, but of course, she had already noticed his interest for this handsome stranger at the bar. Her smile was proof enough of this.

»He’s just some random stranger.«  Oswald replied with a smirk. »And he is probably not even looking at me but the beautiful woman I get to lead across the dancefloor.«

Fish laughed one of her high pitched flattered laughs that only he really got out of her throat before she gently slapped his arm but quickly regained control over the dance. »You are a flatterer, Oswald.« She huffed. »But this man is clearly here for you, Darling. He has not taken his eyes off of you since you came down from that stage. And isn't that exciting? A handsome stranger in a dimly lit bar? Isn't he exactly your type?«

»Miss Mooney…« He replied flustered. »I don't even have a type. I’m at work too.«

»Oh, my sweet pretty Bird, life is not all work and you are indeed a hard worker, my Dear. You should enjoy yourself from time to time and at least this time I actually see the guy first and can judge if he is good enough for you. He looks like a good catch - only the best for my sweet Penguin. I can't stand it when you go with some of the guys that sometimes come to my club, Dear. You are always getting yourself in danger.«

»He could be dangerous.«

»He isn't. Trust me, I have an eye for something like this. Go now before it's too late.« However, as she let go of him and ended the dance, the stranger had vanished from his spot at the bar. He couldn't deny his disappointment in front of Fish Mooney but she had the grace not to say something and only brush the back of her fingers across his cheek.

»I am certain you will get another chance - If it's meant to be.« She smiled but her voice was like poison seeping through his veins as he forced a nod and a small smile of his own. A part of him even wondered if she had done all of this on purpose or if she had truly meant to encourage him to go talk to the stranger.

It was much later as Oswald finally left the club. By that point, he had almost accepted that he would not get to talk to that handsome stranger. He had not forgotten about that man, of course, though he had acted the part earlier towards Fish and the other guys. He knew that he would never be part of that group, not truly. To the other guys, he was the weird small guy, Fish Mooney’s pet. Butch was a different thing altogether. They were not friends but at least Butch would not make fun of him like the others and he actually cared for his safety. He didn't care that Oswald was gay, just as Fish didn't care about that. The other guys, though, well that was something different. To them, he was less of a man for it and that he was a skilled dancer made it all only worse. So, he could not be in there and agonize over the missed opportunity of getting to bang some handsome stranger. He had to play it cool all the time, had to look as if he was in control even if it was not the case at all.

The moment he walked out of that club, however, it seemed that he lost all control in the moment his eyes met with those of the stranger once more.

»Hey!«

He felt the grin that was pulling on the corners of his mouth. Maybe he had to admit that he might have put on a show for this man tonight as he had been dancing with Fish. But there he was, standing under a flickering street lamp in the middle of the night in December despite the cold. He could feel the tension in the cold air around them as small clouds were forming in front of both their mouths. His stomach dropped as the man closed the distance between them before he could even react to him in any decent way without making a fool of himself. »I’m Jim.« He introduced himself with a smile on his lips and a sparkle in his deep blue eyes.

They were only inches apart by now and though not by much, Jim was towering over him. »Is this a habit of your’s, James?« He asked with a slight grin and his voice laced with honey. It was almost the same voice he would use to charm Fish or the men she sometimes invited at her club for business. Oswald had never had a problem to use his charm to get what he wanted and he had never had a problem of promising things to those men or even giving his body to them if they desired him. Fish would do the same thing if necessary, after all. »To prey on strangers like this? To watch strangers all night and then lurk in the shadows until you get a chance to talk to them in private?«

»Not until now, no.« Jim replied with a sly little grin. Meanwhile, his heart was doing somersaults in his chest. His knees felt weak and wobbly like pudding. It was the thrill of the chase, or rather of _being_ chased. It was an entirely different kind of dance between them. »My apartment is right around the corner.«

Jim’s moans were like music to his ears later as he went down on him with skilled ease. He had done this stuff more often than he bothered to count and yet it was something different this time. Somehow. He couldn't quite put his finger on it for now. He was used to getting down and dirty with strangers, sometimes for favors, sometimes because Fish wanted him to, sometimes for business, sometimes for money because this was all he could ever hope to get and he knew that. He knew that he was not relationship material and that no man would ever even consider truly dating him. All he would ever get were flings like this, rough sex with a stranger and bittersweet goodbyes.

The air inside Jim’s cramped-up bedroom was too hot to breathe as he took his cock between his lips. It was a blur how they got here and how they reached his bed but still, he couldn't help but notice the unpacked moving-boxes all around the place. He drew his tongue from the base of his cock up to the tip as if it meant nothing, one hand firmly on Jim's left hip as he kneeled in front of the bed right between Jim's open legs. As he opened his eyes to look up at Jim he was certain that he had to give a truly lewd image to the other man and that was exactly what he desired too.

They had lost their clothing the moment they came through the door of Jim's apartment and scattered the items all over the place. He wouldn't deny that he had tried to imagine what Jim looked like underneath his clothes but everything he could have imagined did not even come close to what he finally found underneath those cheap clothes. Jim was all toned muscle and lean frame. A man used to hand to hand combat. Maybe a soldier. He was not as bulky as Fish’s goons but his hands were just as calloused and heavy. They couldn't be more different even if they tried to be. Oswald was ridiculously thin in comparison to Jim. He had the stature of a dancer. This had always been the case and it was what made him who he was, he guessed. No matter what he would try, he would never even get close to what a man like Jim looked like.

Jim couldn't stifle a moan as Oswald sucked experimentally on the tip of his swollen cock and before he knew it, Jim’s fingers were in his messy black hair, tugging on it tightly. He just hummed his approval and took as much of Jim’s length down his throat as possible. He enjoyed the heaviness of his cock on his tongue, enjoyed the feeling of having such power over another man just by doing something like that. Oswald had always been aware that he was certainly not the most handsome man and not nearly as pretty as people like Fish or his mother would sometimes like to tell him. Sometimes he even suspected that Fish was mocking him whenever she called him her _pretty bird_. However, no matter that he was not fit to hold a candle to Jim or compete with most other men out there, he could make Jim feel pleasure, he could make him moan and squirm, he could make Jim desire him at least for a moment. And maybe that moment was all that he would ever get from Jim but he could live with that.

He enjoyed knowing that Jim was watching his every move and how his lips stretched sinfully around him.

There was something about Jim, at this moment, as their eyes met again, that he had never experienced before and on which he could not quite put his finger on yet. There was something very dangerous and animalistic about Jim, a hidden darkness that he tried to keep secret from the world. He was the type of guy who sought out the thrill of any given situation in his life, the danger that was lurking in the deepest shadows of the night. A kindred spirit, perhaps. A man just as monstrous on the inside as Oswald himself. A devil with the face of an angel, perhaps?

Oswald withdrew his mouth before Jim could come down his throat. Not that he wouldn't have liked that per se, but he didn't know the man. He had to be careful and to not get carried away too much. First and foremost, he had to look out for himself and the way Jim’s grip on his hair had tightened and how his breath had quickened, he had realized quite quickly that his new friend was too close to his climax to risk it.

However, Oswald was not a very generous person - at least not with strangers - and he was not here to just blow this guy and leave. He wanted his fun too and he would get it. So, before Jim could even complain about it, Oswald was on top of him again and wrapped his slim legs enticingly around his middle. Usually, he didn't care for skin on skin contact during sex. With most guys, it was rushed and quick and often never went further than sliding out of his pants at the most but now he was desperate to feel Jim’s skin against his own as their cocks met snuggly between their bodies. His lips were upon Jim’s that very same instant too, the kiss he stole from him hungry and even deeper than before.

In this moment, Oswald was all too ready to lose himself in Jim’s embrace as he felt his strong arms around his back. He took Jim’s fingers with ease as the other man had finally let his right hand wander between Oswald’s wide open legs. His first finger had breached him slowly and with caution, allowing Oswald to remain in his lap, arousingly close to Jim’s throbbing cock. He wanted him inside of him as quickly as possible and he made it clear in the way how he moved against Jim’s fingers inside of him.  

He was thrusting into Jim’s ministrations with newfound energy and hunger as the stranger was working him open patiently. Jim was perfect with his strong arms and his toned skin and for this moment alone Oswald wanted to lose himself in his embrace. He had slept with many men before but never had it felt more like a lover’s embrace like now. Jim was quick to find a condom in his bedside table and Oswald was even quicker to snatch it away from his fingers and rip open the packaging with greedy teeth. His fingers were almost shaking as he rolled the condom down Jim’s length in anticipation, wondering what it would do to Jim would he have done that with his mouth instead. The feeling of his stomach dropping into his kneecaps was always one of the best moments for Oswald. The anticipation of being filled completely and losing himself to pleasure until he would forget even his own name.

He remained on top because that was where he was the most comfortable in all aspects of his life.  

He grabbed Jim’s cock tightly and guided it inside of his own body with ease to embrace Jim with his entire being and a sharp gasp as Jim slipped inside of him. It felt as if his body had been crafted exactly for that purpose, to take Jim completely inside of him without much pain or discomfort. Maybe he had drunk a titbit too much throughout the course of this night after Fish had told him that she would not take him as an entertainer from now on for thoughts like these to cloud his mind. They were strangers, after all, and as soon as Jim would have come inside of him, this right here would be over and Oswald would leave before the sun would rise. The truth was that their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces was nothing special. It only meant that Oswald was a slut and that his body was way too used to this. As soon as he would leave this apartment, they would be strangers again and Jim would have forgotten his name in less than a week.

He didn't know a thing about Jim except for the fact that he had just moved into this flat and perhaps even Gotham. Soon Jim would have forgotten about him completely and Oswald would have nothing left but his memories of this night and the next best stranger to ravage him and make him forget the fact that no one ever truly wanted him.

He pushed Jim down on the mattress and remained on top to drive his greedy hands all over Jim’s chest and scraping his skin with his short nails. Apparently, Jim had enough of him being on top, however, as he grabbed him hard by his narrow hips to turn the situation around. The moan that escaped him was beyond desperate and hungry for more as his back hit the mattress even before Jim started pounding into him with newfound hunger.

He couldn't deny how much he enjoyed the feeling of being taken by Jim, of how he moved inside of him and took control. Yes, he loved being in control, however, he also liked it to be dominated by a man like Jim for certain. He liked being put in his place by stronger hands than his. His moans almost got swallowed by the kiss that Jim stole from him as he breached the barrier of their lips with his tongue to devour him whole. Their fight for dominance started all over again as their tongues met because Oswald was still so unwilling to just give up every bit of control that he still possessed. His body was taut as a bowstring and he was certain that he would snap at any second while Jim was thrusting into him, his legs falling open even wider for the other man and he was all too eager to meet Jim’s thrusts with his own.

Already he felt like he was much too obvious, that he was already only a quivering mess and much too wanton to act as if that wouldn't be the case. Their tryst was rushed and wild, their kisses all tongue and teeth, nails clawing and digging into the other man’s body. A part of him was desperate that they would repeat this again and again because he didn't want anything else ever again, but the rational part of his brain knew that this would be the first and last time he felt so completed by another person.

His cock was massaged to completion by the friction of their bodies moving against each other in mutual pleasure, dragging Jim over the edge of the cliff with him right that same instant as he began to contract around him almost violently during his orgasm.

Jim was completely out of breath as he pulled out and got rid of the condom and Oswald shared his exhaustion too. It had been a long day and an even longer night. Fish was always were demanding with his attention and never really got him out of her claws for more than a few minutes at a time. To his surprise, however, as Jim fell down on the mattress beside him, he quickly pulled Oswald on top of him again and stole another kiss from his mouth, much lazier and sloppier than all their other kisses.

»That was a rather unexpected turn of events.« Oswald hummed against his throat just a few moments later, after he had shifted to lie beside Jim, his head resting on Jim’s shoulder as they were still trying to get their breathing back under control with Jim drawing lazy circles on Oswald’s back and Oswald mouthing little kisses alongside his jaw and his throat. »Not that I would complain.« He added with a grin. »Though I am intrigued as to what made you wait for me outside the club.«

Jim chuckled at this and gently shrugged his shoulders. »I heard you sing tonight.« That was the answer he got for Oswald and it was most certainly not the best or most informing one at that, but it was an answer and it was all Oswald would get from him for the rest of the night.

※※※※※※※

»Hello?« He called out loud enough to be heard but not louder than necessary. »Sir? Do you need help? Are you injured?« There was a voice sounding somewhere in the world outside of his head but it was hazy and foggy and he couldn't understand what was said. »Sir?« The voice came again, this time a little clearer as Oswald pried open his eyes and regretted it the moment he did. The world around him was spinning out of control immediately, his head was pounding so heavily that he was sure his brain was going to explode out of his skull. He was dying. He could feel it deep in his bones. He could feel death waiting for him like an old friend, saw him just outside of his reach in his peripheral with his hourglass in one hand and his scythe in the other. Already Death was beckoning him to follow, to not answer that voice that was demanding his attention now. Yet, Oswald had never been good in following instructions and so he slowly lifted his head. It was just a slight tilt but to him, it was as if he was trying to move a mountain.

There was a figure leaning in close, a man, he assumed but could not be quite certain. Dark eyes were staring back at him like ponds and the voice came again. »Oswald?« The other man breathed out and before Oswald could even begin to understand that this stranger knew his name or wonder why this would be the case, he forced open his brittle lips to speak.

»Help me.«

 

**-End of Chapter 3-**


	4. Chapter 4

Describing his relationship with Edward Nygma was easy enough. Everything about it was like dancing a waltz. It was slow and gentle for the most part. It was very strict and formal and yet inherently romantic. The standard dance reserved for a wedding and other romantic celebrations.

First, however, at the start of it all, there was nothing romantic at all about their relationship. In fact, Oswald had felt nothing at all for this man, except maybe annoyance at his behavior towards him and Edward’s obsession with him. The day at the frozen pond would forever stay in his mind. Ed had been a nervous babbling mess back then. He had been in way over his head as he had decided to talk to Oswald at the pond.

Looking back on it, it was impossible to say how he would have reacted to Ed if he had not been with Jim at the time. Maybe he would have given him a chance had it not been for his relationship with Jim. Ed was a good looking young man. He was tall and handsome, intelligent and cunning. He had eyes like molten amber when the sun would reflect off of them in just the right way. He was different from Jim in every way possible but certainly very strong - which seemed to be a necessary trait when it came to handling bodies at the morgue. That included Oswald’s own body at times because it was Edward Nygma of all people who had found him half dead in that alleyway between trash cans and rats.

The first few days in Ed’s apartment had not been easy at all for Oswald. But that was not entirely Ed’s fault. Sure, he had been creepy with his relentless obsession with him but he had been nice enough. He had been caring and attentive. He had nursed him back to health no matter just how cruel Oswald had been towards him.

Yet, Oswald had been allowed a glimpse upon the darkness lurking underneath that prim and proper facade. He had caught a glimpse of the monster beneath. And yet, even after Ed had lost control and choked him, Oswald had never truly been afraid of him. He had tried to push him away maybe out of fear that he might fall for him if he would not be careful enough. He could not afford to lose his heart to another man so quickly after Jim. He could not risk something as tremendous as this.

Yet, he found himself in a new town where no one knew who he was, standing in a one-room apartment with Edward Nygma by his side. There was no bed, only a dirty looking mattress on the ground, the fridge did not work and their only window was as dirty as if it had been covered in tar. There was the smell of rotten eggs lingering in the air at all times as it seemed as if something was slowly rotting in the only air vent of the apartment.

The story of how they ended up in this place was just as dramatic and nauseating as everything else that had happened ever since Jim Gordon had first come into Oswald’s life and turned it all upside down in consequence. Oswald was very aware that Ed would not have needed to leave Gotham just because of him. Fish would have had no reason to actually kill Edward if Oswald had just left town for good and never returned but Edward had followed him. He had left everything behind, his entire life even, for a man he barely even knew, for a relationship that was not even a relationship.

Maybe that was it. Maybe Ed was of the impression that they were more than they actually were. They had fucked, yes. And yet it was as it had been before Jim. It did not mean anything. It was just sex, after all. He had spent most of his adult life fucking nameless men in forgotten corners of the city and it had never meant a thing. However, Edward Nygma was not just some nameless man. He had helped him, had nursed him back to health when he would not have needed to do any of that. He could have let Oswald die in that alley in the dirt where he belonged.

Ed’s life would have been a whole lot easier without him in it for sure.

He claimed that he loved him and maybe that made everything only worse - at least for Ed. Maybe he should not even bother himself with thoughts about Ed and how he might feel about all of that. He had chosen this path knowingly that it would be dangerous for him to do so. In all honesty, as they claimed that awful little shithole as their new hiding spot and home, Oswald did not even know how he felt about the other man. Ed Nygma was gentle and nice if he desired to be, he was assertive and rough if he needed to be and he was fearless in the eye of danger.

Maybe he had even sought Oswald out for the thrill of it. Maybe that was exactly what Edward had wanted in his life. Danger and the thrill of a life like Oswald's. And maybe that thrill, the danger and the adventure of their weird little companionship was what was blinding Edward even and made him believe to be in love while this could not be farther from the truth.

In fact, Oswald was inclined to believe that a man like Edward Nygma - deadly intelligent, handsome and kind - would never find it in himself to truly love a man like Oswald Cobblepot - cunning, weird and rotten through and through. That was just not how the world was supposed to work, right? A man like Edward would soon tire of a man like him and then he would regret his decision. He had been blinded by Oswald’s _otherness_. That was it. He had thought to have found a kindred spirit in Oswald because Edward too was a man unlike any other.

Soon he would realize that what he mistook for beauty was nothing of that sort, to begin with. Soon he would realize Oswald's ugly nature and he would turn his back on him as Jim did too. Maybe it would only take Oswald beating up someone with a baseball bat too this time. Maybe living together would suffice. Maybe at some point, Ed would wake up next to him, see his disfigured body and be abhorred by it. Either way, no matter what it would be, Edward would leave him sooner or later and everything would end in bitterness and heartache once more for Oswald.

It would be easier if Oswald would prove to Edward that this was not love right away. He could still go back to his old life this way, find a nice girl and have a bunch of riddle-loving children.

»I’m sorry but that place was the only one available for us without drawing too much attention.« Edward's voice pulled him out of his thoughts as he dropped the first of two duffel bags on the ground beside his feet. »I mean, I have much more money on my bank account, of course.« There had been no time for Edward to withdraw much more money than they had taken and he didn't need to say it for Oswald to understand it.

»I've had it worse.« Oswald replied quietly. »We better lay low anyway.«

Fish’s order had been clear enough. She would leave them alone as long as they leave Gotham and never return. She would not go after them out here and yet they still had to be careful. If anyone knew not to fuck around with Fish Mooney, it was Oswald. Yes, she had given them her word but what did that mean in the long run, really? As long as they would not withdraw cash from Ed’s bank account and used fake names, she would have no indication of where they were.

»Still, this can’t be very helpful for your recovery.« Edward sighed and gestured at their surroundings as if the grime and dirt around them might creep into Oswald's body and kill him instantly. »I wished I could offer you a better place to stay.«

»I am no pretty little princess, Ed.« He snorted and limped forward into the apartment. »And I am not weak either. Never make the mistake of underestimating me.« It was a warning, perhaps as he shot a small glare at the man over his right shoulder. However, they both knew that Oswald had been willing to die that night in which Edward had found him.

Now, as he opened the window of their new home, however, he was even more willing to someday go back to Gotham and rip that city from Fish’s cold dead hands. In the end, he would be the one in charge. That was his goal and he would reach it. She had made a mistake in letting him and Ed go and she would learn that too.

The window needed a lot more force to open than he had anticipated but as he succeeded in opening it, he was met with the grey reality of their new circumstances. Outside, the small town they had reached, was grey and bleak. Thin columns of smoke were rising into a steel grey sky from the chimneys of narrow houses in the distance. It was early in the day and he already missed the hustle and bustle of Gotham City. He would never grow accustomed to a quiet like in this city. And yet, as he turned around to face Edward who was sneering at something he had found on the ground, a plan was already forming in his head.

He would not let Fish or Don Falcone or even Don Maroni win. Even if he would die trying taking over he would gladly take that risk. After all, what was there for him left to lose anyway? His mother was dead. The only person Fish could go after was Oswald and now, perhaps, Edward. But that was certainly not his problem to worry about.

»I know that look.« Edward spoke up as he rose back to his feet and straightened his back. »You are planning something.«

»All I am planning is to get this flat into an acceptable state.«

※※※※※※※

It was much later, as the night had swallowed this tired quiet little city just outside of Gotham, nestled intimately in the curve of the bay on the other side of the big city with its enticing lights, that Oswald found himself wrapped in Edward's arms.

The smell inside the apartment was still ridiculously awful and the smell of delivery pizza could hardly change that except for adding to it. They had cleaned up the apartment as best as possible and only because they had covered the mattress with three new sheets had Oswald agreed to even sit down on it with Edward in lack of any other furniture they could sit on.

It was cold as he sat naked in Edward’s lap with his left leg around his narrow hips but Edward's kisses were hot and feverish, slow and sloppy. The world did not matter to them as Edward moved his hips to draw him into pleasure even more and more until he wouldn't be able to stand it any longer. It was hard not to compare Edward to Jim, even now after so much time had passed. Sleeping with Jim had always been rushed and feverish. There had always been a lot of biting and scratching involved in it. Sleeping with Edward, on the other hand, was slow and sometimes lazy. Their kisses were sloppy and long as if they both could not stand even thinking about parting from the other for longer than a single heartbeat.

Wherever Edward’s fingers would touch his skin, Oswald felt as if his whole body would go up in flames just by his touch alone. His entire body was tingling with the sensations the other man caused him.

It was hard for him to move on his own as he sat on Edward's lap thanks to his destroyed right leg but Edward was patient and gentle, helped him with his fingers digging into the soft flesh of his ass or hips as he supported Oswald's movement.

He would never get enough of the feeling how Edward moved inside of him, how he would impale him completely and make him into a quivering disheveled mess - more than he usually was, anyway. It was all a tangle of limbs and skin rubbing against skin, of sweat dripping from his brow and pleasure flooding his body and numbing his thoughts and senses to everything else. Nothing but Edward and his cock plunging into him mattered. And the moment it was all over, the moment he climaxed with a scream between their bodies and dragged Edward over the edge with him, he was both saddened and deadly exhausted all at once.

He came to rest beside Ed, lying flat on his back on the mattress in their new home, staring at the dirty ceiling. The stains on the ceiling were highly questionable and suspect to Oswald, but now was not the time to be concerned about those. He could be concerned in the morning because those stains would undoubtedly still be there.

Only yesterday they had packed up all their things and left Gotham. It was all still so fresh and yet, they both did not know where to go from there. They were lost on a mattress in an ocean of questions and uncertainty. They only had two directions in which they could move from here on. Either they could start a new life out here, find jobs and lead a normal happy life like anyone else or they could work hard and start scheming until they would be ready to go back to Gotham and take revenge.

To Oswald, it was quite clear which path he would rather follow. He was not much the type to bury his head in the sand and do nothing. His mother had instilled this thirst for greatness in him, the undoubted fact that he was meant for greatness and for something big that never left him ever since he had been a child. There was no way that he would stay put out here while Fish Mooney would take control from Carmine Falcone. She had never outright told him that this was her plan but Oswald had spent more than enough time with this woman to know that this was exactly what she had had on her mind for months now.

Carmine Falcone would fall and it would be by Fish Mooney’s hands - except Oswald would prevent that. He did not much like Falcone but a Gotham ruled by someone like Falcone was still better than a Gotham ruled by the likes of Fish Mooney. She was greedy and snobbish at times. At least Falcone loved this city and that was something he had in common with Oswald. Neither Fish nor Maroni cared for Gotham and Maroni would slave her to the point of complete exhaustion.

»I need to get in contact with Don Falcone.«

※※※※※※※

It was October and the first autumn storms had started to hit the small town outside of Gotham pretty roughly. By now they had been able to upgrade their living situation - even if not much. It was not important anyway. In June, they had moved into a small apartment in the heart of town above the tailor shop of an elderly lady. Even as they had introduced themselves as friends to her, she had quickly looked through the lie and welcomed them still.

Sometimes, Oswald even heard her talking to her friends down in the shop about the nice gay couple that was living in one of her apartments. He didn't mind and Ed didn't either. This place was a huge improvement from the other one but that was hardly difficult. Everything, even the trailer he had nearly died in would have been better. What a shame that he had not taken that trailer with him back then. It was a one-room apartment but at least they had running water, functioning electricity and an actual bed this time around. To Oswald, their living situation was of little importance anyway. He rather put every cent they had into his little revenge project.

Life with Ed was good for the most part and while Ed would stare at him in admiration, Oswald only felt a lump in his throat. Edward was quite open about his feelings towards him from the start. He loved him. Simple as that. He had left everything behind and taken a job in a morgue just for him. That was how much he loved him and every time he said it, Oswald could see this hope burning in the other man’s hazel eyes that Oswald would reciprocate his feelings this time around. He never did and to this day, Oswald still had no idea how he felt towards Edward.

He was a good friend. He was his most trusted ally. But maybe he was better off not getting too attached. Until now, love had meant nothing but pain to him.

Still, Edward would move on from his disappointment with grace every time. He would act as if it didn't bother him much and Oswald actually enjoyed his time with Edward even in these conditions. They laughed over crappy TV shows in the evenings, would enjoy their meals together. Sometimes, Edward would come home for lunch, for his workplace was just around the corner. They shared their lazy rainy Sundays with books and music and they would sometimes spend entire days in bed until none of them could breathe anymore.

Life was good.

Until the first storms hit town and flooded the building their apartment was in. It shouldn't have been a big deal. Their apartment was on the first floor, however, the roof of the building got damaged and flooded the apartment above them which in turn flooded theirs. It was then that the first cracks in this relationship they led started to appear. They had to start all over again and Oswald would even admit that he was giving Edward a hard time over it. Though he too had found a job in the meantime, they both did not nearly earn enough money for Falcone to even begin to take him seriously. If they wanted to take revenge on Fish, if they wanted Falcone to take them seriously, they needed money and loads of it too. He needed properties in Gotham, needed to make a name for himself, become a presence and force to be reckoned with and that he could not do with the job he had.

Even his insults Edward took with grace and patience. Even when Oswald would hurl things at him in frustration or scream his lungs out in anger and agony both, Edward would say nothing. He would take it. Usually, that would have always been a trait that would have been highly unattractive to Oswald. He had never liked doormats to begin with but Edward had quickly proven to him, that he was nothing like that. He stood his ground whenever it was necessary and when it was not, he let Oswald scream at him, he let Oswald throw things at him and later he would wrap him in his arms and calm him down again.

It was not just the money. It was not just the situation they were in. It was his leg. It was his mother. It was Jim. It was the fact that Jim had married this god-awful stupid woman. It was Fish. It was Gotham. It was the pain he was in on a daily basis. It was Edward. It was absolutely everything. He had good days when he was in almost no pain and could walk around on the prosthesis Ed made him almost without a limp but the bad days were much more frequent and when it got bad, his life was pure agony.

This night, Edward had not come home. It was almost two in the morning, outside another heavy storm was raging and the small apartment was lit only by a bunch of cheap candles. The entire block had lost power four hours ago. It got so bad that there had been a severe weather warning earlier in the evening, urging those who did not need to leave their house to stay home and save. There were trees falling and branches breaking off, heavy rainfall and flooded basements. In the morning, he and Ed had had a big fight again. Surely, he would not come home for the rest of the night - if at all. He would stay at the morgue or he had finally had enough and left for good.

Of course, he had tried reaching him, but his calls had gone straight to mailbox every time. By now he had started to grow restless. There was always the chance that something had happened to Edward. His heart was pounding at this thought. Was this worry or mere anxiousness that he might have lost his only ally?

He did not dare even considering that it was worry. Because if it was worry and if Edward was dead … Then what?

Finally, he jumped from his spot on the battered couch and threw his book on the seat with a groan. He could not stand sitting around and not knowing what was going on. If Edward was just angry he could just tell him and not punish him with silence!

It was just like Edward had once yelled at him in anger a few months ago: He was just a spoiled brat who always threw a temper tantrum when he would not get what he wanted. He was already moving towards the door to grab his coat and head out to- Yes, what?

»What am I even doing?« He sighed and drove a hand through his hair. His fingers were trembling quite a bit and he could not even begin to understand why that might be the case. Was this real fear he was experiencing? Fear that Edward would not return to him because he had had enough of him and his attitude or fear that Edward might not return to him because he was dead?

Whatever it was, it was not good and he had no time for that crap!

He should be out there getting his revenge on Fish and not agonize over Edward Nygma’s fate and yet he could not stop his hands from trembling as his brain was delivering all kinds of horrific images of a dead Edward in some ditch, struck down by a heavy branch or a roof tile. It was then that he grew aware of the noises coming from outside his door. First, he had not heard them over the static in his brain and the rushing of his blood in his ears but then he started to make out the shuffling of heavy steps. Much too heavy for the fleet-footed Edward. This realization alone started to fill him with panic once more. If not Edward, who else would come to his door?

Had Fish decided she had had enough and had sent Butch after him at last? Butch, who had grown up in the same neighborhood as him and whose cousins had picked on Oswald every day of his childhood. Butch to whom he had looked up at as a youngster. Butch who had introduced him to Fish. Was he now his executioner?

The steps came closer to the door and Oswald found himself frozen in terror at the sound of something sharp, something metal scratching against metal. A key that only found its way into the lock with great difficulty before it was turned. His first instinct was to grab the baseball bat beside the door and that was exactly what he did just as the door was slowly pushed open with a squeak that was certainly audible throughout the entire building.

A lightning bolt illuminated the face of the intruder just as Oswald wanted to swing the bat at the head of his foe. »Ed?« He gasped as the lighting from outside illuminated Ed’s pale face and painted sharp shadows where his cheekbones sat and grim lines around his mouth and onto his forehead. »Ed!« He repeated with much more relief than he cared to admit and dropped the bat at the same moment as Ed slowly stepped inside. He was dragging his feet and carried a duffel bag over his right shoulder.

There was something about his posture that he could not quite put his finger on. He was hunched over just a bit and pressed his left hand to his side as if in pain from running. His glasses hung crooked on his nose. Of course, he was completely soaked but that seemed not to be the root of his problems. As Ed tried to switch on the light beside the door, he frowned. The sound of the door slamming shut behind him was the sound of a portal of a crypt falling shut in the distance. »Power cut out four hours ago.« Oswald informed him quietly and suddenly unnerved by Edward’s silence before the man slowly walked over towards the couch, still dragging his feet and hunched over even worse than before.

»What happened? Whats … Is that blood?« As Edward sat down on the battered couch in the light of the few candles that Oswald had lit earlier as the power cut out in the entire street, and dropped his duffel bag, he was finally able to see why Ed was clutching his side. As Ed took his hand from his side it was covered in blood. »Are you bleeding? What … Why are you bleeding? What happened?« He was at his side in an instant and ignored the low growl that escaped Ed’s throat as he dropped to his knees in front of the couch only to have a proper look at his side. He ignored the sharp pain in his destroyed leg were now his prosthesis was biting sharply into his flesh from the uncomfortable position and pried away Ed’s coat from the wound in his side. His suit jacket underneath was torn and he could see the blood that had ruined his white dress shirt too.

»Ed…«

»No big deal. It was just a grazing shot.«

»A grazing … You were shot? Why were you shot? Who shot you?« The next growl from Ed’s throat was finally what caused Oswald to shut up. He was in pain, clearly, but he was even more annoyed, apparently.

»It was a long day, okay? Just … Just be quiet for a moment, okay? Let me just … Let me sit down for a moment.«

He did not wish to push his luck and yet, after he carefully helped Edward to lose his coat and jacket and rose to his feet again, he could not keep himself from talking. »You've lost a lot of blood there, Edward. And you are freezing cold … Let me draw you a hot bath, alright?«

»I robbed a bank.«

It was certainly not the expected answer. The statement hung in the air for a few moments until Oswald could even begin to understand what Edward had just told him so nonchalantly as if he was talking about the, admittedly, crappy weather. »You did … what?«

Ed just pointed at the duffel bag to his feet and Oswald picked it up and opened it. Truly, it was filled to the brim with fresh dollar notes. »You … You robbed a bank.« The truth of that still needed time to settle into his brain because it just seemed too absurd to be true. »Why?«

The answer came with a smirk. »I cannot be bought but I can be stolen with one glance. I am worthless to one but priceless to two. What am I?«

»A riddle again?« Oswald groaned in frustration but brushed his fingers over Edward's cheek anyway after he sat down beside him so closely that their bodies almost touched.

»Love, Oswald.« Ed sighed. »I did it for love. I did it for you.«

»Ed, I-«

»No, Oz. I know that you don't feel the same way for me. I get it. Truly. But that does not change the way I feel about you. I love you. I want you to succeed in your plans. And for that you need money. Money I cannot provide you with through my normal job. You need to have Falcone on your side before Fish kills him off and time is running out. So … Yes, I robbed a bank for you.« Edward's gaze held his own in a captivating grip at those words. Until now, he had never spoken with such confidence about his feelings, with so much clarity. »And I got shot and I lost a lot of blood and I think I might pass out.«

»Edward Nygma you are a complete idiot.«

It was not easy to assess the damage, clean up and dress Edward's wound in the light of only a few dollar store candles after he had coaxed the taller man into the small bathroom and sat him down on the edge of the tub. Getting him out of his soaked clothes had been quite the fight too but, in the end, Oswald had him naked, except for his boxers, and at his mercy.

The wound was not too deep, just like Edward said but he needed stitches anyway. »What a good thing I worked for the mob, huh?« He mumbled quietly as he pushed the needle through his flesh.

»Don't tell me Fish had you stitch up her goons.« Edward scoffed.

»Sometimes, yes. I did a lot of stuff for Fish that was not included in the job description. Mob doctors are expensive.«  He smirked. »And I can sew. So yes, I stitched her goons back together from time to time.« Even Butch. »You are lucky. A bit farther to the left and you might have lost a kidney.«

»Would have been worth it.«

»No … No, it really wouldn't have been worth it.« He mumbled as he made the last stitch and knotted the ends together at last. »You getting hurt for me will never be worth it.« He thought about that god-awful night when Fish Mooney had them at her mercy and how afraid he had truly been that she would hurt Edward just to make his life even more miserable.

»Don't tell me you are worried.«

»I am, actually, yes.« He sighed. »If you get hurt or caught you will blow our cover and then Fish might come after me again.«

»So that's all you care about then?« He did not like that grin on Edward's face. Not even one bit. That smug bastard knew exactly that this was not the truth. »You don't even care just a little about me then?«

Instead of answering him right away, Oswald rose to his feet and threw a towel at his face. »I am going to bed now. Don't you dare join me unless you are warmed up and dry.« He was certain that Edward was not happy that he had escaped answering his question but for the moment he had to live with that, he guessed.

Not ten minutes later, Oswald was joined by Edward as the taller man slowly crawled into bed with him and winced to emphasize the pain of his wound as if to draw pity from him. Even as Edward slumped down on the mattress beside him in the darkness of the apartment and the storm raging outside of their bedroom window with as much force as a hurricane, Oswald had no idea what to say. The truth of tonight's events were still heavy on his mind.

Edward had robbed a bank for him. They had fought this morning about money and Oswald had known even then that he was behaving like a complete and utter bitch to Ed. He knew that Ed was doing all he could, that he was doing his best to support Oswald and get him the revenge he so desperately wanted. He yelled and screamed at him always and still Edward found enough patience and compassion inside of him not to slap him across the room. Instead, he had gone and robbed a bank for him. He had gotten shot for him. He could have died tonight.

»Next time I’m coming with you.« Oswald finally mumbled into the darkness of the room and a moment later Edward shifted in the bed next to him and pulled him closer. He was resting on his side just like Oswald. Ever since he lost his leg, he could not stand sleeping on his right side and his prosthesis was now resting quietly against the bedside table beside him. Feeling how Ed wrapped him in his strong arms put his mind at ease at least for a moment.

»So you do care.« Edward hummed against his hair. He liked the way Edward would tug his head underneath his chin. He had always had a thing for tall men.

»I only care for the money.« He replied quickly but then, with a sigh he added: »And I would much rather not have you in jail, Ed.«

 

**-End of Chapter 4-**


	5. Chapter 5

It would be a lie would he claim that he had not fantasized about his return to Gotham and how he would make his presence known to the rest of this city again.

As they had first come back to the big city, they had needed to keep their head down and lay low in order for their plan to work. Being invisible to most of Gotham and especially Fish Mooney had been key in this endeavor. Infiltrating Don Maroni’s business to gain intel for Falcone had not been difficult and that stupid bastard had been all too willing to eat his lies up from the start.

To Maroni, Oswald had been his golden goose and he had been happy to play along ever since he had gotten his foot in the business again - much to Don Falcone’s delight. Edward had enjoyed being undercover too quite a bit and had it not been for him, Oswald might not have succeeded in his endeavors.

Edward had soon been highly amused by what stories he had found about his abrupt disappearance from the GCPD and Gotham after their return. Rumors about his death or him being kidnapped by the mob even. Of course, when they had left the city, he hadn't had time to take care of his business. He had sent a hastily penned letter to the GCPD in which he had quit his job but they had both been aware that Captain Essen would not let this matter go just like this. Surely, they had investigated his disappearance after they had tried contacting him about his letter. In fact, Edward seemed to enjoy fantasizing about how his former colleagues had turned Gotham upside down in their search for him, the freak from the forensic-department, and how they had finally given up the search for him. He found pleasure in imagining how they had been worried and anxious to only find him dead and how they might have mourned him and even regretted to having mistreated him the way they did all these years.

By this point, Edward had just been as anxious to make himself known as Oswald.

It had all been in good fun until Maroni had found out his connection to Falcone and nearly killed him. All of this was mere thanks to an accident at Maroni’s restaurant involving an Arkham escapee with a weird fetish for electric devices. Then again, him being unmasked was what finally allowed him to make his return to Gotham known with a bang and the big ‘ _tada!_ ’ he had been waiting for.

As for that big ‘ _tada!_ ’ moment, it happened the second that Oswald Cobblepot entered the GCPD on a particularly busy Friday morning. Finding James Gordon inside the busy building was easier than he would have thought. First, he walked up to the front desk and asked for the other man. Having only been an underling of Fish Mooney had its perks as no one actually recognized him except for Harvey Bullock the moment he walked over to the desk Jim should be seated on and which was vacant at the time of Oswald’s arrival.

»You are supposed to be dead.« Bullock muttered under his breath. His face was deathly pale as he stared at him as if he was actually looking at a real ghost. He couldn't quite blame him.

»I am quite hard to kill.« Oswald shrugged it off and threw a seemingly careless glance across the precinct as if Detective Bullock’s bewilderment meant nothing to him.

»No! I saw how Jim put a bullet in your brain!« Had he been pale before, his cheeks were a flaming red now as he seemed to start realizing that his partner had betrayed him. Bullock, despite what one might think of the man, was not as stupid as one might think. He knew this city and he knew the rules. He was aware that Jim had endangered them both as he had decided to spare Oswald’s life.  

»Did you?« Oswald smirked because though Bullock’s anger was understandable, it was also highly amusing to him. »Then how am I standing here?« He was relishing the moment of realization dawning on Bullock's round face. »Anyway, where do I find James?«

It was then, as he glanced across the precinct once again as if he expected the man he was looking for to pop out from behind a desk, that he found James Gordon staring back at him from the front doors of the building, a cup of coffee in each hand which he promptly dropped as their eyes met. »Nevermind.« Oswald smiled at Bullock and rounded his desk to pat his shoulder. Maybe he leaned in a little more than necessary as he whispered »Found him« with a voice as sweet as honey.

It was impossible to hide his glee and the deep level of satisfaction that he experienced as he walked through the bullpen and back to the entry where he came from only moments ago. Despite having dropped the cups of coffee at his sight, Jim made no move to actually clean up the mess while some of his coworkers threw crude comments at him. He did not seem to hear them. His eyes were on Oswald the entire time until Oswald reached him. A year ago this was all he would have ever wanted from the other man. Would the circumstances be different and would they not both wear a wedding band on their fingers, he would have wanted Jim to look at him like he did now.

»James!« He chimed up as he reached him. »My good old friend.« He emphasized every word with childish enthusiasm before he reached into the inside pocket of his black coat. »I was looking for you. I was already afraid that I would have to leave without being able to give you this.«

»What are you doing here?« Those words left Jim’s mouth in a hiss just as Oswald held the black envelope out towards him. Suddenly, Jim threw a glance over Oswald’s left shoulder and probably to where he knew his partner was seated and undoubtedly staring at the scene. »You were not supposed to ever come back!«

»Don't worry about Bullock, James. I already greeted him. How could I not after such long a time? It would have been incredibly impolite not to greet my old friend Detective Bullock. My mother certainly not raised me to be impolite. Of course, my poor mother died last year after people from the MCU told her that I was dead. Broke her heart, I assume.« With that, he pressed the black envelope into Jim’s now empty left hand and made a point out of closing his own left hand above his and the envelope. »My new nightclub opens tonight. I would love it if you would come. It would not be the same without you.«

He turned to leave before Jim could even say anything else because he knew that the detective would follow him outside in no time. He left the hustle and bustle of the GCPD and stepped into the busy streets of his beloved city. He was home at last. A bit further down the street, a black car was waiting for him to deliver him back to his club. _His_ club. Sometimes it was still so very strange to think of it like this. And soon, if he would play his cards right, the Iceberg Lounge would only be _one_ of his clubs. He would get his hands on Fish’s nightclub as well. Not because it held any sentimental value to him but merely out of spite.

Certainly enough, it only took him counting to five in his head before he heard a person emerging from the inside of the precinct after him. He walked on as if he had not heard the quick steps of the man following him until there was the shouting of his name and then the man had reached him. He had expected Jim to lose his temper because that was just who Jim Gordon was. His knight in shining armor, the last true hero of Gotham - a monster, deep down. Maybe he had not expected Jim to pull him into the shadows of the nearest ally between the precinct and some café and push him roughly against the brick stone wall of the adjacent building. His hands were tightened into the lapels of Oswald’s expensive coat and for a moment Oswald almost lost the ground underneath his feet.

»I told you to never come back to Gotham!« Jim erupted, their faces only inches apart, sending spit flying everywhere in his rage. The old Oswald would have raised his hands in surrender and stammered a response. But he was not that man anymore. And yes, he rose his hands as Jim pushed him even harder against the wall but not in surrender, only to signalize that he meant no danger. Not for now.

There was no apology leaving his mouth. Had Jim found him last year after he had returned to Gotham for the very first time, had Jim confronted him at the corner of the street in which the hotel had been in where he had celebrated his engagement with this blonde bimbo, in the shadows where Oswald had been lurking like a thief in the night, he might have had apologized and begged Jim to help him. But that was not him anymore. »If Falcone finds out you're still alive, we’re both dead!«

Did he imagine what Falcone would do to his precious wife? Was he in terror because he feared for her life too? Had he felt the same thing as Fish Mooney had beaten Oswald half to death in front of his very eyes almost a lifetime ago? Or had he felt nothing at all back then?

»Gotham is my home.« Was the reply Oswald chose to go with instead of anything else he could have thrown at Jim at this moment. »You and I both knew that I would return. And as for Falcone, who do you think helped me get back into the business, Jim?«

Fish had not gone to Falcone or Jim, that much was certain. No, until now, Fish had had no reason to do such thing. She had had no reason to hold the truth over Jim’s head until now. She had been waiting for the right opportunity to strike which would have inevitably happened the moment she decided to turn against Falcone. Not long now.

»I should have killed you!« Jim spat as he finally let go of the lapels of his coat. The true meaning of Oswald’s words sunk into his brain only slowly, as it seemed. »I should put a bullet into you right now!«

»But you won’t.« Oswald smirked and brushed his hands over his coat as to straighten it back out. »A long time ago, I thought that you were a good man, James. Maybe the last good man in this city. I know better now.«

He saw the punch coming as Jim retracted his fist. It was as if they were complete strangers as if they had not once shared kisses and loving touches, as if they had not once been lovers in the serenity of Jim’s crappy apartment which he had traded for Barbara Kean’s luxurious penthouse like his soul for the respect of his colleagues. Before Jim’s fist could actually connect with his jaw, however, there was a hand, covered in a green glove, that was holding Jim’s arm back by his elbow.

»Well, well, is that how you treat an old friend, Detective?« Edward’s voice was rich and deep and smooth as butter, just the way Oswald loved it the most. Had Jim thought he came without backup he would be even stupider than he had expected. He had told Edward not to interrupt if he did not deem it absolutely necessary and here he was now in his loud green suit that he loved so much while Oswald could only roll his eyes about his sense of fashion. He let go of Jim’s elbow only as he had the detective’s full attention.

»Ed?« Jim gasped and before any of them could say or do anything, he glanced from Oswald to Ed with his mouth hanging open like a fish. »You are on his side? Where have you been? We thought you were dead!«

»Funny story, actually.« Ed smiled that full-teeth shark-like smile of his, a threat more than anything else. »Maybe I will tell it to you at some point, Jimmy-boy but first I would much appreciate it if you could take your hands off of my husband.«

»Hus- _What?_ « Only then Jim quickly let go of Oswald completely and stumbled a step backward from the duo. Of course, Edward would not let anything keep him from straightening out Oswald’s tie as he stepped closer to his husband as if needing to mark his territory. Edward had changed a lot from the babbling freak that he had first met a year ago but he was still a man driven by jealousy whenever he seemed to think that someone wanted to infringe on his territory. Jim Gordon especially seemed to be like a red rag to a bull to him. Oswald himself knew jealousy too, of course, though he had never been fond of jealous men. Yet, in the case of Edward, he liked this possessiveness the other man had of him.

»You are not the only one with a love life after our little … affair.« Oswald scoffed and glanced shortly at Edward before he returned his gaze to Jim who seemed absolutely mortified that Oswald would be so open about their shared past in front of Edward Nygma. Maybe there was something dawning in the back of his mind even, maybe he was remembering a conversation he had had with Edward a long time ago. »Don't worry, I don't keep secrets from Edward.«

»You were talking about him…« Jim quietly muttered to himself as he looked up at the much taller Edward who just smiled that smug smile of his once more. In his mind, he had just won a game of chess against Jim, after a year of waiting for it. »Your boyfriend … A year ago, on the day you vanished. You were talking about Oswald.«

»Bravo, Detective.« Ed chuckled. »Took you long enough to solve that puzzle.«

»But why, Ed?« He asked his voice nothing more than a whisper now. »Why didn't you tell me about it? We were friends, Ed!«

»I am never right. I am often mistaken for being true. I am deceptive and many people use me as an enemy disguised as a friend. What am I?«

Jim seemed taken aback for just a moment as he just stared at Edward still in surprise that he was even here to begin with. »A lie.« He then answered his riddle with a resigned sigh, bitterness creeping back into his features. He seemed older than when Oswald had last seen him. Almost as if this city was draining his lifeforce from the inside out.

»Bingo.« Ed smirked before he turned his attention back to Oswald and quickly nodded towards the mouth of the alley where they had come from before.

»I would really like to keep talking, my friend, but we have further business to tend to as it is.« Oswald then addressed Jim as Edward already made his way out of the alley with just a polite little nod at Jim. »I told you that there is a war coming, James. Back on that pier, remember? Blood in the streets. I didn't tell you that I am the one who’s bringing this war, though. The invitation still stands. Come to my party and choose which side of the war you will be on.«

※※※※※※※

Almost it had been all too easy. The pieces had fallen into place too quickly. Maroni was not yet dead but it was only a matter of days, weeks at the most by this point. Soon, Fish would lose her temper. She would be the one who would start a gang war. And here he was, at the opening night of his new club. His very first very own club high above Gotham. Outside of his office, music was pounding through the former penthouse, people were dancing and generally having a good time. It was a success, just as he had expected it to be.

»The people want to see you out there and not having you hole yourself up in here.« It was Edward who managed to pry him from his darkening thoughts. Everything had been too easy. Sure, he was usually five steps ahead of everyone else and thus things tended to be easier and yet he could not shake off the feeling that he should not enjoy his victory just yet. He needed to be cautious now more so than ever before. Every little move he made needed to be well calculated from now on.

»You enjoyed teasing Jim today, didn't you?« Oswald smiled as he leaned back against the high backrest of his chair, placing his arms firmly on the armrests. Ed did not even care to close the door behind him as he walked over to his large oakwood desk and then around it. Ed couldn't care less if anyone would see them in here. They had nothing to hide, after all, and as for safety, Oswald knew that Victor Zsasz, Falcone’s most favorite killer, was never too far away anyway, always lurking in the shadows.

Ed was quick to grab the backrest of his chair and turned it around so that Oswald would face him now that he stood beside the chair. Only then did he place his hands on top of Oswald’s and leaned down to him to steal a long kiss from his lips. »I loved every second of it.« He smirked as they parted just for a second before stealing a second one. »He deserved it.«

Did he? Seeing Jim for the first time this day after such long a while had been very odd to him. He had fantasized about it before. He had wondered how it would play out in the past, what he would feel in the moment.

»Was it everything you wanted it to be? Meeting Jim after so long?« Ed asked as he straightened his back again only to sit down on the edge of the desk.

»I don't know.« Oswald answered after a moment of pause before he rose his eyes to look at Ed again. »I don't quite know what I expected from meeting him again. Gratification perhaps? He surely is in deep trouble now, especially with his partner. It's hard to tell, really. I didn't know how I would feel at the moment but … Actually, I felt good. It felt good to reveal myself to him and throw him off the loop. Surely, he was terrified afterward because of Fish. After all, he doesn't know that she already knows that he did not kill me. When I learned about his engagement with Barbara so shortly after I escaped Gotham, I was hurt. I loved him. I truly did. There is nothing left of this now, though.«

As he extended his left hand to Ed, his husband was quick to bridge the distance with his own left hand and tangled their fingers together before leaning down to plant a kiss on Oswald’s knuckles. »I will admit« Oswald continued. »The face he made when he realized that we are a couple … It was glorious.«

Ed hummed his agreement and stayed for a moment longer like this, sitting on the edge of the desk with Oswald’s hand in his own as he stared out of the window behind Oswald chair. In the distance, one would be able to see one of the bridges and the river glistening in the moonlight. »Not long now and this city will be yours.« The sound of those words was like music to his ears and yet Edward left him alone at his desk a short while later to return to the party. He waited at the door, a clear invitation this time around and finally, Oswald accepted it as he rose to his feet and followed Edward outside into the hustle and bustle of his new club.

It was much later, in the wee hours of the morning, as Oswald sat at the bar of his club and nursed a glass of the most expensive whiskey he had on his shelves, that he heard the tell-tale clicking of heels on marble flooring. Edward was upstairs somewhere, undoubtedly checking up on Mr. Penn, the bookkeeper Don Falcone had send over to support Oswald in his new business.

»My, my … That is quite the place you have here, pretty Bird.« He was not surprised that Fish came only out of her hole when the party was already over and Oswald made a point of emptying his drink before he even looked at her. »And, I must admit, that is some set of balls you have on you, Oswald. To come back to this city again, after I made it perfectly clear what I would do with you and your little boyfriend if you would ever make that mistake.«

As he looked up from his glass and towards the doors where Fish had entered and was now stepping closer, she made a show out of slapping her trusted baseball bat on the palm of her left hand. The same bat Oswald had once held in his hands too in a dingy alleyway. A warning. The delivery of a promise made a year ago. Still, Oswald smiled and rose to his feet in the process. Fish was only flanked by Butch and one more nameless goon he couldn't remember from his time with his former boss.

»My name is Penguin.« He replied calmly as he faced her straight-backed and with a smile on his lips as she reached him. »And I am glad you could still make it to the grand opening night of the Iceberg Lounge, though you have missed the party. It was quite the success. Can I offer you a drink?« before she could answer, he turned his face to the side just enough to address the young man behind the bar. »Thomas, would you be so kind and refill my glass and add three more, will you? Only the best for my old friends. I would offer you a dance, Fish, but I’m afraid, dancing with me these days is not very enjoyable anymore.« He made a point out of tapping his cane against his right leg to emphasize the sound of the wood gently knocking against the metal of his prosthesis.

Fish seemed amused by his attitude and his choice of words but Oswald was no fool and he knew that she was deadly serious about her threat of beating him to death right here and now.

»There is so much we have to catch up on!« Oswald continued a bit too cheerfully as he grabbed his refilled glass and one of the three others to extend it to Fish. She didn't even lower her eyes on the glass as she slapped it out of his hand.

»Look at this.« Fish sneered and glanced over her shoulder at Butch. »Cocky, isn't he? Now that he is sucking the old man’s cock, our dear little cripple thinks he is something special.«

»I can assure you that I’m not sucking anyone’s cock, except my husband’s on occasion.«

The smile she granted him was almost cruel. »Oh, right, I heard the news. Congratulations.« She grinned. »Last time I saw your _husband_ , he was begging me under tears to spare you, right?« It was then that her left hand suddenly shot forward to grab his jaw and dig her long nails into his skin. »Listen, you little freak, just because Carmine thinks you can do something for him does not mean you are save from me. I promised you a punishment if you would return to Gotham and I am a woman of my word.« She hissed. »So how’d you like it? On your knees like the little bitch you are or do you want to face your punishment on your feet like a real man?«

»Kinky.« Another voice, much more nasal this time, chimed in at those words. Oswald didn't need to look over his shoulder to know who it was as the person was emerging from the shadows now. Even if he wouldn't know, Fish’s reaction was tell-tale sign enough as she actually let go of his jaw and took a step back.

»I believe you have met Victor before, yes?« Oswald smirked and threw a glance over his shoulder at the assassin who was approaching with a grin on his face and a gun in both his hands directed at Fish and her goons.

»Hi!« Victor grinned but never had his gaze falter. In the beginning, he had not felt comfortable around the assassin either but by now he had grown accustomed to him. He would not say that he actually liked him but at least Victor possessed a certain sense of humor and was here for his protection.

»As much as I would love to continue our little conversation, I’m afraid it's time to leave for you guys now. We are closing for tonight.« Oswald smiled. »But please feel free to return tonight. Maybe then you can actually join me for a little dance. You know, for old time’s sake.«

※※※※※※※

The fight for Gotham’s crown was a lot bloodier than anticipated even though Falcone announced his retirement as it all went down. In fact, the real fight began only as Fish decided to shoot Maroni in a fit of rage after a few cleverly placed words from Oswald just as he had calculated. Still, everything that happened after that was pure chaos and mess and it was almost impossible to keep track of the major players in it.

Bullock and Gordon were head-set on getting Falcone out of the warehouse where it all went down. At first, he was dead set on stopping them and putting a bullet in Falcone’s head but in the end, Fish was more important. As long as Falcone was going to leave Gotham for good, he was no threat.

And yet, the moment the fight was won, it was not a moment of real satisfaction. He had thought a lot about how it would all end and go down and what he would feel the moment Fish would be dead. He had been certain that he would feel relief or joy - _something_ at the very least - when he would finally get his revenge.

And yet as he fired the shot and as the bullet ripped through her stomach, suddenly Oswald felt as if the world stopped turning for just a moment. He saw her fall in slow motion, heard Butch scream for her before he was knocked unconscious by one of Maroni’s men, a man named Gabe, for good. Only as her body slammed into the ground on the roof of that building, time started moving again. It had been a cat and mouse game until now and they all were injured and exhausted from it. He had killed numerous of her men and numerous of Maroni’s crew had been killed as well. The game was won. The queen had struck down the king and the knave had struck down the queen in the end. She had been too cocky, too sure of herself. He should feel an overbearing sense of joy as he slowly limped over to her as she was lying on the ground and slowly bleeding out from the wound to her stomach. He had never been the best shot and severely lacking in practice, but in that case, he had meant to hit her stomach. He hadn't wanted her to die immediately from a bullet between her eyes. A bullet to the head was a form of mercy she did not deserve.

Edward was waiting for him at the club, anxious, probably. They had agreed that, would they lose sight of each other during this chaos, they would meet at the club. He didn't even know if Ed was injured or not but knowing Ed, he was probably unscathed. Maybe he had not planned of getting kidnapped from the hospital in which Falcone had been at but, in the end, everything had worked out as planned. As he reached Fish and went down on his knees beside her, he felt oddly sad. The prosthesis was biting angrily in his leg, a constant reminder of Fish’s love to her former umbrella boy.

There was a moment in which he didn't quite know what to do as she was fighting against death. It was a hopeless battle. She was bleeding out fast and already he could see the life draining from her eyes as he sat and watched. There was not the feeling of triumph that he had anticipated. He was just tired and felt oddly empty.

It took him completely by surprise as she reached for him with her right hand only to rest the palm of her hand on his left cheek for a moment. Her gaze was as intense as always but there was something new to it that Oswald could not quite put his finger on. Pride, perhaps? »Make this city yours.« She then groaned out but her voice was hoarse and the life was fleeing from her eyes even faster than before. Still, she spoke those words with a sense of urgency that was entirely new to him. »Or you burn it to the ground.«

※※※※※※※

Weeks later, as the sun was slowly rising above Gotham, Fish’s words were still in his ears. The city was his now. The fighting was over. Falcone had left Gotham for good, the GCPD was off his back. Maroni’s men had finally joined his ranks at last. It was a new day. A new era for this city. He was standing at the big window in the Iceberg Lounge that was overlooking the city he had grown to love and despise to almost the same extent in the past couple of years. Gotham was a city where the most vile and corrupt people thrived. What she would give you, she would take from you in the nick of time. She was a vile beast and someday in the future, she would chew him out too.

Still, for the moment, he was now on top and the families were bending their knees to him.

»You look exhausted.« By now he always knew when Edward was hovering close by. There was this certain change in atmosphere around him, a difference in the vibrations of a room, electricity crinkling in the air. So, as Ed laid his hand on his shoulder, he was not even surprised in the slightest.

»It's just the strain of leading.« Oswald sighed. »It's a lot more work than it looked like.«

Every day there were petitioners coming to his club, every day he had to sit through meetings and strenuous conversations with the heads of the remaining families. Well, that had to have been expected but at the very least he had Victor Zsasz on his side and it was now only a matter of time until Butch Gilzean would find his way to his court too. He would not pressure him, after all, he had had quite the tight relationship with Fish. And he probably regretted that he was the one who had originally introduced Oswald to her. Still, he would come around sooner or later.

»You are going through this quite well.« Ed smirked as he forced Oswald to turn away from the window. »You have the families on your side. you have the power you wanted, the influence you dreamed of. Sooner or later, even the GCPD will accept you and bow to your command.«

»What about Butch? If I can't convince him to join me, he might convince others to go against me with him.«

»Give him Fish’s club?« Ed suggested. »Give him her club and a place at the head of your table. He will mourn her for a little while longer but then he will see the light. Show him that, despite your shared history, you still see a friend in him and that you do trust him.«

»I swear to you, if I have to sit through one more meeting with those idiots…«

»That's what you have me for, Darling. I could be your right-hand man, you only have to say a word.« His voice was that of the snake in the Garden of Eden, entirely too alluring to deny his offer. he would give everything to not ballast his mind with those meetings anymore or listen to the demands some of those assholes made.

»I know.« He sighed, finally rejecting the apple that was offered to him by the snake from the tree of enlightenment. He knew that Edward too would be a good leader and maybe that was even what he feared. But, on the other hand, Edward was new to this world. He didn't know the ins and outs of the organized crime. This was Oswald’s world and he was not going to give it up. Despite everything, he enjoyed being on top. »But you are not my sidekick, Ed.«

»No, I am not.« Ed grinned before he leaned down and planted a kiss to his lips that left him breathless for a moment after they parted lips again. »And I will have my own thing on the side, don't worry. I already have an idea, actually. But for the most and important part, I am your husband. I am on your side and I am there when you need me.« How was he going to argue with that? »And now let's go home.«

Home, yes. _Home_ was still not the big lavish mansion that he could have with all the money now in his possession or the influence he had garnered. _Home_ was, despite everything, Ed’s lofty crappy one-room apartment in the heart of Gotham and so close to the GCPD that it could be seen as a provocation. They just left the building and walked down the sidewalk to their car that would deliver them back to Ed’s apartment in central Gotham as Oswald looked up at him again. »So, what's this idea?«

Ed’s grin could not possibly grow any huger. »It's a deadly game show.« He smirked. »And I will call the place _the Riddle Factory_.«

 

**-End of chapter 5-**


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